Creative Writing · Fiction · Short Stories · Writing

The Winning Number…

Carl was tired to the bones and felt disgruntled about his job. It was mere drudgery with little pay.

The new foreman was also an ass who kept yelling at people.

He regretted dropping out of college and wished he could start all over. Girls and booze was a pastime that got old fast and with Sue pregnant with a second child. He worried.

Break time was a little reprieve, so he ambled over to the deli where the other men gathered for a quick lunch.

All eyes were glued to the excited TV presenter who called out the winning lottery numbers. Each man read his ticket hopefully.

Carl paid no mind. He had bought just one ticket for reasons he couldn’t explain.

The cashier exclaimed that the ticket had been sold in the deli.

Each man checked his stub again and he fumbled in the back pocket of his dirty jeans to find his.

The ground rushed to meet him in dead faint. He had the winning number.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Inlinkz

In response to the FFAW photo prompt above. Thank you Ellespeth’s friend for the photo and Priceless Joy for this enchanting platform

Fiction · Friday Fiction in Five Sentences · Life · Short Stories · Writing

The Dreaded Phone Call…Friday fiction in five sentences.

She was on her way back to town when the call came in, her fingers slackened and the phone slipped, falling on the cobblestones with a thud, but she just couldn’t bend to pick it up as she stood rooted to the spot, her legs too heavy laden to move forward.

Staring unseeingly into the distance, tears filled Ellen’s eyes and brimmed over with a silent scream that tore through her head and her heart shattered in tiny bits.

She always knew that this day was coming, yet she wasn’t braced for it.

That single dreaded call, that she had prayed never to receive finally came.

……And the man died! Head bowed in deep grief, her knees buckled as she sank into bone-wracking wailing; like a wild animal, Ellen’s cry was not a pretty sight. She cried with all her being, but everyone who knew her understood why.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Fiction · Short Stories · Uncategorized

Dear Andrew…

Sybil’s fingers trembles and as she sends the text message to Andy. It’s better this way, because she couldn’t stand to look him in the face and break the news to him.

Hopefully, he would be so mad that he won’t want to see her when he gets into town.

For weeks he talked of how they would get married, so she would return to Pennsylvania with him and she had been joyful.

Now, those dreams are never going to be. It all seems so surreal as she stares into the distance.

She’s loved Andy forever and everyone thought that they would end up together.

How she had ended sleeping with Jason still puzzles her. All she remembers was cuddling up to him as he helped her to the truck. A night out in town, several drinks and she was out like light.

Jason was a good friend to both of them and now this.

She wonders how he would take the news that he is to become a father. There will be ripples in town.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Inlinkz

In response to the FFAW photo prompt above. Thank you TJ for the photo and Priceless Joy for this enchanting platform

Fiction · Friday Fiction in Five Sentences · Short Stories

The Last Confessions…Friday fiction in five sentences.

Odette’s body shook uncontrollably as she blindly read and re-read the note; a dying man’s last confessions and her tears brimmed over.

She had always known and believed that Joshua was innocent, but no one else believed him and justice jailed him on circumstantial evidence.

They had been too poor to hire a good lawyer and had to rely on the States miserable representation, which had been a pitiful fulfillment of obligation.

Now this! A note exonerating her husband after so many years of misery and when it was too late, since Joshua died in prison, a broken man.

In a desperate need to take a long walk, she left the note on the old wooden table, picked up her shawl and stepped out into the bitter-cold.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Fiction · Love · Short Stories

25 Years Later…Flash Fiction

Their fabulous anniversary party was over and Rita sipped chamomile tea with a relaxed sigh.

Twenty-Five years, yet it seemed just like yesterday.

She watched Greg change into his pajamas to join her in bed as she dwelt on their time together and how it all started.

Bright things attracted her so she always gravitated towards the red bench, where she ate her sandwich and watched people go by.

Until he decided he liked the chair as well and appropriated it for himself.

She had felt ticked-off, but decided not to allow his presence to deprive her of her little pastime.

She would hurry to get the seat before him, but he would sit silently beside her and read his newspaper.

Till she started missing him on the days he failed to appear.

Looking at his graying temple as he flipped through the papers, she knew such contentment and decided to replace the park chair.

The last time she walked by, it looked worn with years.

Who knows, a new bench might perform some magic.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Inlinkz

In response to the FFAW photo prompt above. Thank you Ady for the photo and Priceless Joy for this enchanting platform

Family · Fiction · Friday Fiction in Five Sentences · Short Stories · Tips for the day

Lost Boy…Friday Fiction In Five Sentences.

 

The voice of the security rang sharply and intermittently over the Mall’s public address system.

‘There’s a missing child with us, he is four years old, he is dressed in brown slacks and a blue shirt, please contact the security to identify him,’ the speaker kept announcing.

This went on for hours, but no one came.

Little Ashif was tired, tearful, hungry and hoped Mama would come and get him soon; he promised to be a good boy, if only she would come.

As days passed no one came and the little boy wondered why she never came back, after all, he had been a good boy when she said he should stand and wait; he became the ward of the State.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

P.S. This story came to me based on an experience at the Mall. A child went missing and the loud speakers went on for hours announcing and describing that child.

I was there for three hours or thereabouts and I left with a heavy mind. I wondered if the parents of that boy picked him up or not. I couldn’t help wondering how they misplaced him in such a huge mall in the first place.

*As a security caution, once we arrive any of the Malls here or anywhere, I look for the information desk and get a name tag band which my children wear on their wrists with my number and their dad’s own written on it, where that is not available, I write on a piece of paper and tuck it into their pockets, just in case there is a pandemonium or anything of the sort.

Image credit: Pinterest

Challenges · Fiction · Short Stories

Need For Speed…

Linda knew Scott was visiting again. It took her a while to understand Jack’s  excited reactions whenever he ran to the closed garage door and made those noises while thumping his tail.

Scott loved to race and she hated it with a passion. Every time the racing circuit was on, she developed ulcer from anxiety.

She begged him to stop, but he said that the speed got his adrenaline pumping. He simply couldn’t stay away from the tracks.

She remembered that day with vivid clarity. Her bad feeling made her ask him not to go, but he waved off her fears with his boisterous, full of life laughter.

The nightmare unfolded before her eyes as she stood by the bylines watching cars careen out of control, the screeching tires, the scrunch of metal and the pile-up.

Scott died. His speeding days forever silenced, but everyday he is back, tinkering with his old clunker that he first started racing with.

She thought that his fatal attraction would have faded after everything that happened, but his passion seemed incurable.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Inlinkz

In response to the FFAW photo prompt above. Thank you Pixabay for the photo and Priceless Joy for this enchanting platform

Creative Writing · Friday Fiction in Five Sentences · Love · Photographs · Short Stories

The Basket Of Flowers…Friday Fiction In Five Sentences.

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His palms got sweaty and his heart rate increased as he approached the door.

He has no idea what kind of reception he would receive, but he was willing to try.

He has loved her from their kindergarten days, from her little flouncy skirt and swinging ponytails to her grown svelte alluring confident self and sleek bob.

As the boy next door, he had watched the dates come and go from the sidelines, wishing he was the one; now it’s time to take a chance and knock.

Suze opens the door, a huge smile weaving on her face as his words stammered and stuttered along, she buried her nose in the beautiful bouquet of flowers, heaved a sigh of content and relief, ‘I thought that I would have to wait forever,’ she said.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Fiction · Short Stories

The Medicine Woman…

Phaedra hummed as she ground the Sunflower seeds and dried petals into powdery form. The brew will soon be ready. A dash of mint, a whisk of rosemary, a toss of thyme, a pinch of cinnamon and a shake of turmeric, it bubbled gently.

The Sunflowers always bloomed with such brightness for as long as she could remember. Her rounded bump also kicked more vigorously whenever she hummed and mixed the herbs.

She smiled as she recalled her days as a child. She would perch on the high kitchen stool, while Nana prepared the different elixirs.

Nana hummed cheerful, dreamy tunes often interjecting with a little explanation here and there, to her numerous questions.

Nana handed out the little bottles to the villagers and advised them to take 2 table spoons of the tonic with a smile, a pinch of gratitude and a shake of a leg.’

They always came back feeling more invigorated and asking for more.

Phaedra has become the medicine woman.

Nana passed on to another realm, but the drying and blending of her Sunflowers still goes on.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Inlinkz

In response to the FFAW photo prompt above. Thank you Sonya for the photo and Priceless Joy for this enchanting platform 🙂

Creative Writing · Fiction · Short Stories · Social Issues

Blood On Her Hands…

She sat rocking herself in the corner.

She knew that soon they would come to take her away, but she could hardly find the nerves to run and hide. She was too tired and just wanted to sleep for ages.

For years and years, she had withstood it.

At first she told herself that she had to stay for the children.

Then she grew afraid to go anywhere.

Then she became a nervous wreck, got sick and disgusted with her life.

Then she lost her job and had no money.

Then she lost all her friends.

Then she became totally dependent on him.

Then the berating, the beatings, the cycle of maltreatment got more vicious.

He made the mistake of pointing the gun at her head but failing to shoot.

That was his weapon of choice. To scare her out of her wits with the gun amused him a lot.

Now, he could do it no more. She shot him with the gun that had taunted her for ages right in the back of his head.

It was point blank Bulls Eye. The beginners luck.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha